


Pinup Boy

by fandumbandflummery



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Porn Reading, Porn Watching, and well really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandumbandflummery/pseuds/fandumbandflummery
Summary: It was roughly ripped from the magazine’s flimsi page - so much that the spot where the man’s name should’ve been was left stuck inside the magazine - not that Kal would’ve remembered it. The mag itself was shortly after thrown out with the household rubbish, and hopefully lost beyond the reach of his wife, back when that was something Kal had had to worry about.





	Pinup Boy

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, me and a bunch of friends decided that Walon Vau totally posed in saucy Mandalorian-oriented magazines in his youth. 
> 
> Also, use and mention of the magazine Butts and Beskar™/B&B aka Mandalorian Playboy in any subsequent fic you all might write is officially endorsed by me, the originator.

It was roughly ripped from the magazine’s flimsi page - so much that the spot where the man’s name should’ve been was left stuck inside the magazine - not that Kal would’ve remembered it. The mag itself was shortly after thrown out with the household rubbish, and hopefully lost beyond the reach of his wife, back when that was something Kal had had to worry about.

The picture was basic enough, hardly even all that titillating - a slender young man with with close-cropped black hair and an intense stare, stripped to the waist of his beskar and undersuit, reclining alluringly in some approximation of a Kom'rk -class warship’s cockpit. Less appealing to Kal was the Strill puppy curled around his shoulders like a living, drooling scarf, but Kal had learned long ago that (privately) lonely, desperate men like him could not afford to be choosy.

It had been furtively pasted to the inside of one of his rifle cases and largely forgotten about, turned background radiation in Kal’s routine of amid the bounty hunts and contract kills. He’d removed the inner workings of the case a few times to replace them, or left it open while he maintained the weapon within it. Each time he couldn’t help but stare at the cutout - it had made him feel dirty to sneak looks at it before, during his marriage, before he’d truly accepted or understood his feelings. But eventually it had become an object of deliciously base comforts.

He only rarely jacked off to it directly - something about it felt seedy and desperate even to Kal at his loneliest - but he did it anyways. Still, there were many more nights where he’d simply held the image of the lovely Mando lad in his mind’s eye during those quiet moments of one-handed reflection - appreciated even more now amid the daily chaos of having become a father again under rather bizarre and upsetting circumstances.

Upsetting was also the fact that Walon Fekkin’ Vau had no respect for those moments and chose at that point to flaunt the fact that he knew the codes for Kal’s apartment door locks, walking in with his damn Strill on his heels and completely ignoring - or possibly just not even caring to notice - Kal stretched out on his bed with his pants and shorts down to his knees, cock in hand.

“Hey, Skirata, your brood of freaks is on the loose again, they just broke into- oh Manda'ner. What is THIS?” Walon says, taking two of his ridiculously long strides over to where Kal’s personal armoury is stacked up in various states of readiness in the corner of the bedroom.

Shit. He’d left the case open. 

With the image of the anonymous lad who so haunted him and which was, at the time Vau walked int, taking him down a pleasant road that - Manda willing - would’ve ended with an orgasm-assisted nap.

“I didn’t think anyone in the galaxy still had this thing. Kark was I a *child* then - I can’t remember the last time I saw myself with more black hairs than grey! And, fek, Mirdalan was such a small thing then. Amazing really how-”

“Wait, wait, wait. That’s you?!?" Kal’s thought processes screech to a halt.

"Well of course - B&B paid well in those days and I was just building up my reputation as with man of some useful skills - despite what buir said - and I needed the money till I got more contracts. At least they didn’t get me to pose with my kad out. That’s something for me to know and others to find out about, y'know?” Walon continues, casually as if he were just mentioning Kamino’s endless downpour, idly scratching Mird behind her ears and causing the beast to drool more on the floor.

“You- you posed for Beskar. You.” Kal while he tries to reconcile the grizzled, wiry sadist who plagues his every waking hour with the lithe young beauty in the photo, and just makes his head throb for the trouble - and not the head he wanted, either.

“Yes, we all do crazy osik when we’re young. Speaking of being young and crazy, again; your boys are raising hell in a place where clones really should not be doing so and Ko Sai really could use your…gentle hand in talking them down before she gives up and has ‘em shot. Otherwise I was just going to sic Mird on them and leave it at that. Later, Kal'ika,” and with Mird trotting behind, vanishes from the room as abruptly as he entered.

Once the door shuts, Kal resigns himself to yanking his trousers up - his dick long since having decided that Walon Vau as jackoff fantasy was too much to bear - lunging to the rifle case, grabbing the fragile picture and crumpling it up, throwing it in the general direction of the garbage chute.

“I fekkin’ hate that shabuir,” he grumbles, just as the security breach alarms in the halls outside begin to howl.


End file.
